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Amanda goes for a high-up job.

When I met you in the flesh at the age of 18, I knew I was yours. And I have been ever since. The last year and a half we had been together, you moving to my town so we could be together, we were, and still are, in love. Even though I have an insatiable thirst for your body, and a desire to please you completely, I am a red head. A fiery, extreme one at that. Until I met you, I was an independent, and in-control woman. But now you required me to completely give up all control. I had wanted to do this for you, and thought that I had, that is until my pride could stand the humiliation no longer. Perhaps it was the need to be physically punished, or maybe it was the instinctive drive in me to be sarcastic, and to protect my self esteem that made me disobey you, but boy, was I about to catch hell for it.

I gritted my teeth. "I'm yours, Master."

"Damn right you are, Trash. Why the fuck would you think I would let you get away with that? I own you, Slave, and if I want to touch you, fuck you, beat you or reject you, I will, and you have no right to stop me, got that?" He pushed me a bit harder into the ground to make sure I had gotten the message, and stood up. I lay there, shamefaced, but exhilarated that I had gotten such a reaction from you.

When I came over to your house earlier that day, things had been peachy keen, all smiles and giggles. I had cleaned up a bit for you while you relaxed in front of your computer. Looking at the way your polo shirt clung to your sweaty broad shoulders, and how your long shorts just begged to be unbuttoned, your perpetually mussed up longish blonde hair teasing my aching fingertips, I felt the heat from my pussy grow to a raging inferno. I tiptoed over to you, and twirled your black leather chair around. I shook my hair loose from its clip, it falling in a wavy curtain down my back. My black tank top clung to my chest, sweaty with the heat and my desire. My short denim shorts slightly rode up, as I bent down to your level (letting you get a good look down my shirt) and I told you that I needed your cock in me, and that I needed it now. I licked my lips, and surely my eyes danced with sexual frustration at seeing you but not touching you, but you completely ignored me. You had scoffed at me, telling me to restrain such urges, and that there were some dished downstairs that needed to be washed. You started to turn your chair back to your computer, but I couldn't help it. I couldn't stop my hand from rising up and hitting you right across the cheek, the audible slap slicing through the thick heated air. I had panicked when you raised up out of your chair, backing me up against the wall, your hand automatically going to my throat. I gasped and fought back, my eyes going wide as my body panicked and flailed to get air into my lungs. My body had plunged into the darkness of unconsciousness. And now I had awoken and you were punishing me for my actions.

I try my best to catch my breath, sitting up carefully, so as not to make you kick me again. I knew that I had deserved such a reaction, but something in the way you stood there, back to me, hand through your hair, had my body dancing with desire. You slowly turn to me, and grin maliciously.

"So my slut wants to fuck, huh? Well, if you want my cock, you're going to get it. Get on your hands and knees bitch." I scrambled into position, not pushing my luck any further, as I hear your belt come loose. SMACK. You landed you leather belt right across my ass. And hard. I buckled slightly from the blow.

"Apologize, trash, that you are wasting your Master's time by making me punish you."

You land 7 more blows across my ass before I'm able to choke out an acceptable apology. You grab my shorts and pull them down without undoing the zipper, and literally rip my underwear from my body. Your rough hands slide under my shirt and rudely grope, pinch and pull evilly on my sensitive nipples. I moan from the pain, loving how it surges right down to my pussy.

"You like this don't you slut?" I can tell from your voice you'r

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